


Atop Maegor's Holdfast

by Maracuya



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Forced Marriage, King's Landing, Loss of Virginity, Older Man/Younger Woman, Post-The Battle of the Blackwater, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 05:39:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15723099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maracuya/pseuds/Maracuya
Summary: The wonderful AllTheDances has provided me with a delicious prompt for a one-shot I couldn't resist:"Tywin and Sansa both suffer from insomnia and meat each other under these circumstances."





	Atop Maegor's Holdfast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AllTheDances](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTheDances/gifts).



> There is some smut, but not as much as in other stories. The focus is on their other interactions.  
> Sandor Clegane mentioned at the beginning. References to Cersei and Joffrey and Eddard Stark's death throughout the text.

Why did she always have to come back to this place at night? Why wasn't she able to sleep properly anymore? Why did she keep seeing camp fires in the distance when the Battle of the Blackwater was long over?

Sansa sighed. Somehow, she kept half expecting a harsh, gravelly voice from a scarred warrior to call out at her. To mock her. To make her think. To save her when necessary.

But the Hound was gone. Had disappeared from her life, and likely forever. Perhaps it was for the best for both of them... but who could tell?  
_"How is it possible to be relieved and sad at the same time?"_ Sansa thought.  
She looked out at the starry sky and allowed her memories to wander.

"What are YOU doing here?" a cutting voice called out at her, and Sansa flinched, not being able to recognise the person addressing her right away.  
She spun around.  
Her heartbeat stuttered.  
In front of her in the darkness there was a slender, but tall figure. The scanty light of a torch illuminated sharp features, elegant clothes, some facial wrinkles and golden-grey sideburns. A golden chain was dangling from a stiff neck.

Sansa swallowed hard. She'd only seen this man fleetingly, and never from close up, but there was still no mistaking who she was standing in front of: the new Hand, Tywin Lannister.

*****

"Lord Hand," Sansa breathed and curtsied.  
"I asked you what you're doing here. I demand a simple answer to a simple question," Lord Lannister spat.  
At once, Sansa adopted a meek tone.  
"I was just gazing at the stars. It's so romantic to look at the twinkling sky."

Lord Tywin snorted, and it sounded as if hers was the dumbest possible concept. His reaction irked her somehow, probably because the Hound had called her a brainless bird all too often in the past. Or because everyone else thought her daft as well, including Cersei and Joffrey.  
Oh, Sansa knew that appearing to be a harmless dimwit probably guaranteed her her life these days... Only she was so tired of this role.

Somehow, her mouth was faster than her mind.  
"And why are you up here, Lord Hand?"  
The next instant, Sansa wanted to bite off her tongue for her insolence, but there was no taking back the words.

For a moment, Lord Tywin glowered at her as if he wanted to scorch her with his gaze. A muscle was moving at his jaw - or was a flicker of his torch misleading her? Sansa didn't think so.

"It's none of your business why I'm here," the Lion of Lannister snapped - and for a split second, Sansa felt that father's sword Ice couldn't have been sharper than this man's voice.  
Then, however, she thought, _"I've still got my head. For the time being, that is. So his voice isn't always as deadly as a sword."_

Aloud, she said, "Please forgive me my question."  
At the same time, she suddenly wondered if Lord Lannister wasn't up on Maegor's Holdfast for the same reason like herself. Yet... if that was the case, then why would he be unable to sleep? A bad conscience?  
One flicker of a look into his direction, and Sansa discarded the idea.  
_"Maybe it's the stress and the responsibility that comes along with his post?"_ she wondered.  
But no, Lord Tywin had been Hand under King Aerys for years and years. This wasn't anything new to him. So -

At this moment, Lord Tywin uttered a low grumble.  
"Maybe, it's a useful coincidence we're meeting here after all, Lady Sansa. I'd have had to... deal with your case at some point anyway, now that the king has ended your betrothal."

A shiver crept up Sansa's spine.  
"I see, my Lord," she whispered and cast down her eyes.  
Even so, she noticed the Lord Hand rub the bridge of his nose with his index finger and his thumb from the corners of her eyes. Over the months she had perfectionalised this method of not looking into a certain direction and still knowing what was going on in front of her.

Meanwhile, Lord Lannister went on, "Your situation here is a delicate one, as you will be aware of. Eventually, I will defeat your brother in battle, and perhaps sooner than later. You'll be his heir in case he dies. Which means you're my key to the North. You'll have to marry. I'm sure it can hardly come as a surprise to you."

Sansa went cold to the bones. She blinked, felt nauseous, and her mind ran wild. Of course, she had known the man to be a widower, but...  
"So...," she stuttered, "so you want to... marry me in order to get access to the North... and finally an heir you consider more suitable than Lord Tyrion?"

*****

For the blink of an eye, Sansa got the impression that Lord Lannister was experiencing a shock.  
"I didn't -"  
Lord Lannister broke off. The next instant, Sansa felt herself pinned against a cold castle wall. The elderly man's eyes were like emeralds set on fire.  
"YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY I'M UP HERE, STARK GIRL? I'll tell you," Lord Tywin frothed. "I can't sleep. BECAUSE IT'S MY WIFE'S NAMEDAY."

Just at that moment, the bell from Baelor's Sept announced it was midnight, and Lord Tywin corrected himself in a calmer, but colder tone, "Yesterday, it was her nameday."

Something fluttered, deep inside of Sansa's core. It had to be some weird kind of fear. Of Lord Tywin being so harsh... and so close.

"I didn't mean to offend you," she whispered.  
"And Tyrion didn't mean to kill his mother - but he did," Tywin growled.  
"I - I'm sorry," Sansa peeped.

Lord Tywin simply stared down at her for a long moment.  
Then, he snapped, "Now who taught you about tactics?"  
Sansa blinked.  
"What tactics? I don't know a thing about tactics, my lord."  
Her interrogator arched an eyebrow.  
"Then how come you're delivering a tactical analysis of why I should marry you?"

Sansa's eyes widened.  
"Why... it's got nothing to do with an analysis. I... I was just stating what is so obvious that a naive girl like me would see it."

"Naive girl...," Tywin repeated - then pointed with his chin at her breasts. "You're no girl anymore if you ask me. And you're dressing like a whore with that tight cleavage."

On hearing the accusation, Sansa flushed pink.  
She cast down her eyes and murmured, "I wear these dresses since I haven't had any new ones for ages."

There was a long, thoughtful pause in which Sansa became acutely aware of the coldness in her back and Lord Lannister's bodily heat at the front.

Finally, Lord Tywin stepped back.  
"Guards!" he called out.  
The men on duty, who had given their Hand the privacy Sansa had never had, appeared within moments.  
"My lord?" they asked him in unison.  
"One of you - run down to the sept. I need a septon up here," Lord Tywin ordered.

When the man had disappeared to carry out the task, Lord Tywin spoke, "It's good we're already wearing cloaks because of the coldness up here, my lady. - And guards: you'll have the unique honour of functioning as witnesses in this ceremony."

*****

Sansa didn't know who was more shocked: the guards or herself. Lord Tywin made a step forward again and wrapped her in a silent, steely embrace.  
"To shield me off from the guards," Sansa thought.  
The Hand's minions likely shouldn't see her face.

Sansa swallowed hard. She breathed in and out to calm herself. At this point, she noticed Lord Tywin's bodily warmth again... and his scent. Both did funny things to her she had no words for. Was he using sandalwood soap?  
Sansa's head was spinning. It was good Lord Lannister was holding her, in a way - her knees felt wobbly at the prospect of what was about to happen.

"Lord Lannister. The septon."  
The voice was obviously from the guard who had temporarily left them.

Lord Tywin stepped aside, and Sansa felt much colder, now that she was fully exposed to the wind.  
She also got a first view of the man who was about to wed them. It was a spindly, half bald man with an overactive Adam's apple.

Lord Lannister spoke, "This woman, Lady Sansa Stark, and I are wishing to get married at once. Do your duty, septon."  
The man in question gaped at them like a codfish. One more burning look from Lord Tywin, and he sprang into action. One simply didn't go against the Lannister patriarch, no matter how unusual the order.

The world turned into a blur for Sansa. She only noticed the momentary coldness when she had to take off her own cloak. Her eyes were so dry they were burning.  
When the septon leaned in as close as he could, Sansa realised she was barely moving her lips for the vows, and her voice was no more than the smallest possible whisper.  
Whether the man had truly heard her or whether he was too frightened to react in a critical way - the septon declared Sansa and Lord Tywin wife and husband.

Her sudden bridegroom faced her and gave her a quick peck on her lips.  
Next, he announced, "It is late. We shall retire now. Wife, your room is only a few steps from here, I've heard?"

Sansa nodded, unable to speak.  
"Good," Lord Tywin said. "We'll spend the night in your quarters, my lady."

*****

It was really a short way to her room - which was good, because Sansa didn't know how much longer her feet would support her.  
When they arrived at the door, Lord Tywin wrinkled his brow.  
"You're a Stark. Or rather you were. No guard?"  
Sansa shook her head timidly.  
"Not since Clegane has disappeared and since the king has ended our betrothal."  
A snort from Lord Tywin was all he needed to tell her what he thought of this mode of action. Or rather the lack thereof. He lit a candle and opened the door.

Sansa was glad when there was none of Cersei's creatures inside to wait - and to spy - upon her.  
"No chambermaid either? No fire?" her bridegroom commented.  
"It's late," Sansa murmured.  
"Pfft! It's late my left foot," Lord Tywin growled. "You're a noblewoman with some of the bluest blood in the realm. The woman who should be on duty will get a whipping for her laziness!"  
Sansa winced, but she thought it probably wasn't the time to discuss things with her new husband.

Lord Tywin pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers.  
"I don't know what you think, but it's been a long day with a somewhat... challenging ending. I just mean to go to sleep now."

Sansa blinked and couldn't believe her ears. Did that mean he didn't intend to consummate...?  
"I... I see...," she stuttered. "Just... what if there's no blood on the sheets in the morning?"  
Her bridegroom shrugged.  
"They'll rather think you a whore than me a eunuch - but what do I care about the opinion of sheep?"

It was not a response Sansa thought she could appreciate, and for various reasons. She didn't have any more time to ponder it, though.  
"Get off your clothes now, wife. We won't need them in bed."

Sansa realised Lord Tywin was already in the process of stripping bare. Her stomach did a flip, and she averted herself, blushing.  
With trembling fingers, she opened her laces, snuck out of her too tight dress, darted toward her bed, and slid beneath the furs, eyes to the wall.

A moment later, the mattress sagged under a second weight, and the leather cords that held it groaned. Lord Tywin's naked form settled in beside her, and Sansa's heartbeat galloped. Oh my! His physical presence!

Her bridegroom grumbled into her ear, "How fortunate I don't have late King Robert's shape. This bed is really narrow for two people. And I'm not used to a second person in it anymore."  
"Me neither," Sansa peeped.  
Lord Tywin tensed.  
"What do you mean - not anymore?"  
It dawned on Sansa how weird she must have sounded.  
"I shared a bed with my siblings when we were children. Did you never do that?"  
There was a short pause.  
"My childhood was a long time ago," her bridegroom finally answered in a pointedly offhand tone.  
Sansa didn't pry any further.

A few moments later, her bridegroom moved to find a good position, aligned his body alongside hers, and threw a possessive arm around her middle. Oh! Oh gods!  
Sansa should have probably thought of how she was Lannister property now, a suitable vessel for breeding... only it was difficult to think along these lines - or to think at all - when she could feel Lord Tywin's naked chest against her bare back. His curly chest hair. His... his nipples even!  
And further down... oh gracious gods! This soft, fleshy appendage nestled against her buttocks was... it was...!!

Her bridegroom's voice cut into her musings.  
"Where did you get that scar on your back?"  
Sansa stiffened.  
"It's nothing."  
"That's not what I was asking."  
Sansa felt a wave of dread wash over her.  
"I got the scar at court. Joffrey had me beaten by the Kingsguard several times. Sandor Clegane was the only one who never struck me."

Lord Tywin stiffened at that.  
"Aha."  
That single comment sounded as if it comprised a whole concept of what he'd do to the men who had dared to cause a blemish on his possessions.

Next, he turned and blew out the candle.  
"Good night, wife."  
"Good night, my lord."  
To Sansa's surprise, Lord Tywin fell asleep quickly. Soon, she could feel his cheek and slow, warm breathing against the nape of her neck.  
Sansa, though, couldn't relax like this for ages. Nor was she able to truly ponder her situation. She was too busy being embarrassed. Of lying naked in bed with an enemy. An incredibly impressive enemy. And she was embarrassed of not being adequately disgusted. Far from it.  
Oh, the shame!

As it was, Sansa only fell asleep around the hour of the wolf.

*****

Strangely enough, her slumber was exceptionally good. No haunting nightmares of her father's beheading, or of all the other nasty things she had experienced around Joffrey. She felt all warm and safe for once. And in the morning, there was some nudging and rubbing against her lower parts that felt somehow incredibly good, causing her to instinctively want more.

Sansa was just about to open her eyes, still facing the wall... when her chamberdoor opened and one of her servants started to scream. It was Rubylla, by the sound of her voice, one of Cersei's lazy spies. How the woman hadn't heard of the wedding yet was a miracle, given how gossip usually flew from mouth to mouth in the Red Keep.

While the servant was yelling, there was a loud, metallic clatter that indicated a fallen breakfast tray.  
"Out!" Tywin Lannister snarled at the hapless woman.

Wincing, Sansa remembered what had happened and that she wasn't alone anymore. Who she was with.

The banging of the massive chamber door indicated her servant had fled.  
Lord Lannister growled, "Looks like we've made maximum impact. Five minutes from now on until Cersei will start throwing things."  
Sansa blushed. She didn't want to think of Cersei now. Or ever, for that matter.

Just at that moment, her cheeks started to burn even hotter, for she could sense something crucial had changed about Tywin Lannister... further down.  
However, Sansa didn't get a chance to ponder things any further. In one fluent movement, Lord Tywin turned her on her back and slid between her thighs. One smooth movement, and he sheathed himself inside of her, causing a wet noise.

*****

Sansa uttered a squeak und was so overwhelmed she couldn't think straight.  
"The worst should already be over," her bridegroom declared. "Pain?"  
Sansa looked up at his intense green eyes, then blinked, furrowed her brow and shook her head.

The next instant, Lord Tywin pulled out again.  
"I already thought it was too easy. You're no maid." He pointed at the bedcloth. "See, no blood."

Sansa stared at her husband, mouth agape.  
Then, she emphasised, "That's impossible! I've never been with a man!"  
Lord Tywin blew the air through his nose.  
"You certainly sounded like a clueless, half strangled chicken. Perhaps you've lost your maidenhood to the saddle. Or you were born differently. Or you've touched yourself."  
"Touch myself?" Sansa gasped, mortified. "But that's a dirty place!"  
Lord Tywin hissed.  
"I've got to make a mental note to forbid Septas educating little girls. Their shrivelled femininity and warped morals aren't doing any good. But be that as it may. I'm not going to give you my seed until I've seen your moon blood dripping off your thighs. I'll not risk a cockoo's egg in the Lannister nest."

Sansa was convinced her cheeks would surely never stop burning again. Then, however, she thought of what had just occurred, and something else crossed her mind.  
"You did that on purpose," she stated.  
Lord Tywin shrugged.  
"Anything. Always. What are you referring to now?"

Sansa pulled herself together.  
"You... you... took me by surprise, that's what you did."  
Her bridegroom shrugged again.  
"No time for thinking and panicking that way. Less panic, less pain."

A strange knot of annoyment stirred deep in Sansa's core. Sure, he hadn't been cruel, had not even been rough, which was a surprise, but...  
"And you don't think, my lord, that you could have prepared me and prevented me from panicking in a different way? Since my father's beheading, I've lost all appetite for surprises. I'd have liked to find out what the marriage bed means in a different way."

Lord Lannister stiffened, and when he answered, his voice was stiff, too.  
"Lady Sansa, as you will remember, I'm both beyond the prime of my youth and your enemy. Don't tell me you'd ever come to me or my bed willingly. I did what I did to keep the negative effects to a minimum."

The knot of annoyment in Sansa's belly turned into wrath, and suddenly, all the festering old anger she'd harboured in her heart for so long spilled out.  
"I may be stupid, but of course I know that this isn't a love match! How could I possibly ever forget that? But you know what I'd expect from a husband, even from an enemy? A minimum of respect. Because then I'd be able to feel a minimum of resect for you as well. But you didn't show me any respect when you didn't explain a thing! Nobody ever asks me anything, or explains anything to me! I've got to be an obedient daughter, a good girl; I don't need to know. I've got to be an obedient subject, and I don't need to know. I'm only good for being an object of royal sadism. And now, I've got to be an obedient wife, and a vessel for breeding. So I don't need to know anything now either, that's the way you men are thinking. But if you don't tell us anything, if you don't explain things, why, it's no wonder women turn out naive, or if a marriage turns into an unhappy one."

After this monologue, Sansa stopped short and froze at her own traitorous words. If any spy had listened to them, she was doomed! And Lord Tywin would surely explode and punish her now!  
In one hasty movement, she turned around, trembling, and pulled the blanket over her ears. She was waiting for a striking fist.  
It never came.

Instead, she heard her husband's voice.  
"Some six or seven hours into our marriage, and you're already turning into a lioness. What would you say if I wanted to sleep with you again now?"  
Sansa turned around again, lowered her blanket, and gazed at Lord Tywin. His face didn't betray any of his thoughts or feelings.

Sansa licked her lips.  
"When my father was still Hand, my sister once muttered something whose deeper sense I didn't really understand, but somehow, it did sound meaningful. I'll quote it now: 'Not today!'"

Tywin Lannister cocked his head, mulling her words over for a moment. Then, he got out of bed, naked as his nameday. His manhood was still erect. Sansa quickly cast down her eyes... then noticed her bridegroom stare at her, gauge her reactions... and she forced herself to take in his appearance again. They looked at each other for a moment.

After that, Lord Tywin turned around and towards his clothes.  
He started to don them and said, "We need to leave the top of Maegor's Holdfast now. The world is waiting."  
Stuttering, Sansa asked, "But how will you be able to present yourself like... this?"  
She pointed and averted her eyes.  
"I'll stop at the privy beforehand," was the enigmatic answer.  
Sansa realised she had barely scratched the surface of not being a maid anymore.

"Will you be my husband... downstairs?" she asked.  
 _"Will you save me from Joffrey and your vitriolic daughter?"_ That was what it actually meant.  
Lord Tywin's answer was clear enough, "Nobody will rumple a single hair of the Lady of Lannister."  
And after a short pause, "Will you feel a minimum of respect for me then, my lady?"

Sansa bit her lip.  
Then, she spoke, "I'll feel a minimum of respect as soon as we arrive at Casterly Rock."  
Lord Tywin's head jerked back a fraction, and his feline eyes narrowed.  
"I'm Hand!" he exclaimed, annoyed.  
"From what I've heard there was a time when you intended to leave that position under King Aerys," Sansa replied. "Because you knew he was mad and dangerous. And because he lusted after your first wife."

Lord Tywin became white with anger as he understood the underlying message all too well.  
"You just want to escape to your brother while we're on the way."  
Sansa thought once more she had overdone it and readied herself for some sort of punishment. At the same time, she was so endlessly tired of always cowing down.  
"It's indeed what I want. But there's a difference between what we want and what we do. Running away would be lethal for me. I'm not like my sister. I'm not at home in the wilderness. On a broader scale, it would make more sense to stay with you and to broker a ceasefire with my brother, for example. Winter is coming - to all of us."

Her husband looked down at her and cocked his head.  
"You may look like your mother, but you're entirely different from your parents."  
From his lips, it sounded as if that was an asset. Once more, Sansa was more than half sure she didn't like what she heard him say. At the same time, Lord Tywin's ambivalence was... interesting, if nothing else. She told herself that it was really nothing else, rose from the bed, and put on one of her too tight dresses, knowing it would be the last day to wear the worn-out rag.

Lord Lannister offered her his elbow. His long doublet was covering his... bulge.  
"My lady. Shall we?"  
On hearing these words, clipped as they were, Sansa smiled. If she was turning into a lioness, her husband was learning how to ask politely. Of course, she'd never say that aloud.  
She took Lord Tywin's arm, and though she had no reason to do so, she felt at ease.  
"Yes, let's go," she said and turned her back on the top of Maegor's Holdfast, never to return.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything. All the credit goes to Grrm. I'm not making any profit from this.


End file.
